Classic Poem

In the right well-deserved praise and honour of my deere friend. Mr Philemon Holland Doctor of Physicke, who hath giuen Paper no cause to complaine

When well I weigh how much obliegd I stand
To thee (rare Holland, subiect of my song)
Among the rest that hardly vnderstand
Those authors which thou makst to speake our tongue:
And when I minde thy wrongs receau'd of late,
Whereby this praise for thy last paines was hid
By envy, malice, or by euill fate;
I could not but thus right thee, as I did.
The pen vnspoild, though worne beyond a pen,
The hand vnwearied though with toyle opprest.
The head diseasd, for ease of Englishmen;
(Yet still hold out) in motion (yet) do rest
They rest in motion; restlesse-rest is that,
Yet thats the rest thy pen, thy hand, thy head
Deere Holland hath: which all (vntirde) translate
The greatest volumes greatest braines haue bred
Life being so short as from the birth to beere
Is but a span; all times may well admire
How so much may be onely written heere,
Where toyle makes that short life more soone expire
Had I an angells tongue, or else a pen
Made of his pinion (might I iudge of thee)
I should so speake and write, that gods and men
Should see a miracle of thee, through mee;
For Nature workes but still to hold her state.
And for that worke alone neglecteth all;
But thy workes do her power in thee abate
For others good: that a supernaturall
So, th' art a miracle of men, for men;
Yet if this miracle be thought vntrue;
To thy good heart, from thy head, hand and pen
Giue what is right, and then is all but due
To count the volumes most voluminous
Which thou translated hast with care (past care)
And art (past art) were but superfluous;
For all do know them, sith they famous are.
Natures great Secretary thou didst teach
To speake such English, as (though he be high
In cloudy-matter) English eyes may reach
His highest pitch, that tryes the eagles eye
The Roman most renownd Historian,
Iraians great Masters Moralls (boundlesse bookes)
Smooth, tranquill, and the rugged Ammian,
Thou mad'st as smooth to speake as Pallas' lookes.
And for thy last (but so it cannot bee
If life do last, for still thou wilt be doing)
There is a worke translated now by thee,
For which we long, the learned haue been wooing;
In this, through thee, we see (as in a glasse)
The wrinckled Face of graue Antiqvity.
Thy passing Author here himselfe doth passe,
O're whome thou raign'st while he doth subiect lye
Camden, whose fame, nor seas nor lands can bound
(Yet they best know him furthest from our ken;
For English least do knowe his voyees sound)
Is made more famous by thy famous pen.
For now the English knowes his worthinesse,
His countrymen now see him as he is;
Before, they at his vertue could but guesse,
And guesse by artlesse nymes, that often misse.
Yet man of Art, behold! for all this all
How thou art subiect (that deserust to raigne
In all mens loues) to hate of great and small,
That to be learnd alone take enuious paine;
Who seeke for knowledge onely to be knowne:
( " For who know most are knowne still most of all " )
They deeme wit folly, — that to all is showne;
And goodnesse badnesse hold, if generall
Who knowes the voyce of Enuy theirs do know,
For Enuy speakes but onely by theyr tongues;
Who being a devill, speakes (she cares not how)
By borrow'd organs which to them belongs
Alas poore snakes! (base Enuies instruments
Poore in your wit and wayward in your will)
Yee little learne; so, hate the ornaments
Of art in greater wits of lesser skill.
Did you not doubt your owne defect of wit,
You would all arts should still be showne to all;
And let the best wit make best vse of it,
For Wits renowne and Letters liberall.
Yea you would wish the Babylonian towre
Were yet to build, while all one tongue impart
That so sole witt might be Arts gouernoure,
Not tongues that are the essence of no arte.
But were yee good and would all good should know
Who enuy this more learn'd, lesse enuious man,
You would the frankest praise on him bestow
Who makes th' unlearn'd a learn'd Historian
Shall English bee so poore and rudely base,
As not be able (through meere penury)
To tell what French hath said with gallant grace,
And most tongues else of less facundity?
God shield it should, and Heau'n forefend that wee
Should so debase our owne deere mother tongue,
That shewes our thoughts (howeuer high they bee)
With higher tearnes and eloquence among,
Then let me muzzle those so dogged mouthes
That byte and barke at what they should defend:
" They lyes do loue that hidden would haue truthes,
And he is Vertues foe that's Errors friend. "
But kinde Philemon, let thine actiue Muse
Still mount aboue these base detracting spirits:
Looke not so low as snakes that men abuse;
And highest fame shall crowne thy lowest merits.
Go forward (maugre backward Enuies crabs,
That still go backe) thy paines giue others' pleasure:
They play proud Miriams part, thou Ionadabs,
They skant our learnings lists, thou giu'st vs measure.
This Camdens-Brittaine, that on wings of Arte
Flies ore the world, knowne least where most it ought;
There thy free pen to all doth it impart,
And mak'st them learn'd that almost are vntaught;
For Camden (whose all time out-wearing fame,
Sith hee the learned hath so often gladded)
Hath by thy pen now multipli'd his name:
For now to Camdens Britaine, Holland's added
Then pregnant Holland Britaine fertile make,
With Learnings compost, till the croppe of Arte
Be ready for our neighbours sythe and rake,
That haue lesse skill then will to take our part:
So shall this soile (when thou art soile or sand)
Call Camdens Britaine Hollands richest Land.
The vnfained honorer of thee and thine endeuours.